The Kiss Thief
by Boogum
Summary: "Have you ever kissed a boy, Astoria?"


A/N: This is my first foray into writing Draco/Astoria, so I apologise if it feels a little rough around the edges. I know most people usually make Astoria blonde (and I often do myself), but as I was writing this, she wanted to have brown hair, so brown hair she has. :P

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**The Kiss Thief**

The first time Draco Malfoy kissed her, she was still a child.

Astoria had found him sitting on one of the stone benches in the Forgotten Garden – that secret place she considered her very own, and which she had named during one of her more romantic moments. She loved to come here, especially in autumn when the old trees would create archways of rust-coloured leaves overhead and blanket the ground with a carpet of red and gold. She could almost imagine herself a queen at court when it looked like this, but today there would be no imagination games. Today her whole attention was fixed on the young blond seated on that slightly mossy bench – her bench.

She held her hands in front of her, fiddling with the silver ribbon tied around her waist as she shuffled towards the boy. The dead leaves crunching under her feet alerted him to her presence, and the young blond glanced up, grey eyes widening with surprise as he met her curious yet shy gaze.

"What do you want?" he asked, a faint scowl pinching his already drawn features, yet there was something pleasant about his appearance all the same.

Astoria chewed on her bottom lip – a habit her mother took great pains to try and get her to desist – and shuffled a few more steps closer to him. "Why are you out here by yourself?" she asked, glancing at her feet and then quickly up at him again. "Doesn't Daphne want to play with you anymore?"

Draco gave an inelegant snort and looked away. Astoria stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. When he remained silent, she let out a small sigh and took a seat next to him on the bench. Her feet did not quite touch the ground, while his rested quite comfortably next to hers on the grass.

"This is my garden, you know," she said after a moment, peering up at him through her large, hazel eyes.

"Is it now," the blond responded in a voice that suggested he thought very little of her claims to ownership. For some reason, his scepticism grated on her.

"Yes." She held herself straighter, meeting his eyes challengingly. "You shouldn't have come in here without asking me."

He glanced down at her, a wry smile touching his lips. "Are you going to kick me out?"

Pink blossomed on her cheeks. "Well, I—um—"

Draco frowned. "How old are you?" he suddenly asked, staring at her with renewed interest.

She looked down, swinging her foot awkwardly. "Ten."

"Ten," he repeated. "You're just a child."

"I am not a child!" Astoria cried, glancing back up at him with an angry flush staining her cheeks.

He raised an eyebrow, and she bit her lip in confusion, her blush deepening to a rich red.

"I'm sorry," she half-whispered, hanging her head in shame. "I should not have raised my voice like that. Mother is always telling me I need to control my temper."

"Don't. You're far more interesting when you're angry."

She glanced hesitantly up at him, wondering if he was mocking her or not. There was indeed a teasing smile hovering at his lips, but there was nothing cruel about the expression. She knew he was not being malicious.

Astoria relaxed a bit, and even allowed a small grin of her own to tug at her lips. "Mother would have a fit if she heard you say that," she said, giggling at the thought.

"Then we'd better not let her hear it," he responded in a conspiratorial voice, and winked at her.

Astoria beamed in delight, thriving on the thought of keeping secrets with the older blond. "I like you, Draco Malfoy," she said impulsively. "You can stay in my garden for as long as you like."

"I'm honoured."

Her brow creased and she stared at him suspiciously. "Now you're just making fun of me."

"Yes, I am," he admitted, and then laughed at her mortified expression. "You're sweet," he said with careless fondness, standing up from the bench. "I'm sure you'll be quite the heartbreaker when you're older."

"I don't think so," she mumbled, looking down at her hands. "Daphne is much prettier than I am – everyone says so."

Draco gave another of his inelegant snorts. "Daphne," he muttered, the scowl returning to his face. "Daphne is nothing but a stuck-up cow."

Astoria giggled, hazel eyes dancing merrily. "Don't you like her?"

He lifted his chin. "Hardly."

"That's surprising. Everyone else who comes here goes crazy over her." Astoria sighed and started swinging her legs again. "Daphne's kissed loads of boys – she tells me about them sometimes."

Draco looked at her curiously. "Have you ever kissed a boy, Astoria?"

"No," she said glumly. "I doubt I'll ever get to kiss someone either – at least not anyone decent. All anyone ever cares about is Daphne. No one will look twice at me," she finished with another heavy sigh.

Draco's mouth twitched. He looked her over appraisingly, taking in her frilly white dress – a child's dress – and her pretty yet undeniably youthful face. She was small, but, young as she was, there was no disguising the hint of a woman beginning to shape her form, nor the kissable softness of her lips. She would be a force to be reckoned with when she was older, though it was probably true that she would never rival her sister's beauty. Whatever her looks, however, she was still just a child, and it was with this in mind that he faced her now.

"I tell you what," he said, sitting back next to her on the bench, "in return for letting me stay in your garden, I shall give you one kiss."

"Really?" she exclaimed, then promptly blushed and glanced back down at her lap.

He laughed and tilted her chin up with one finger so she had to meet his eyes. "Really."

Astoria chewed on her bottom lip – an act that Draco knew would be the ruin of many boys when she was older – but for now she was just an amusing little girl, and he would indulge her just this once.

"Close your eyes," he told her mock-seriously.

Astoria did as she was told, letting out a small, shaky breath when he lowered his face to hers. He hesitated a moment, staring down into her pale face – her child's face – and then he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was light, chaste and over in a second, but that didn't stop Astoria from blushing and smiling like an idiot when she opened her eyes again.

"Was it everything you expected?" he asked teasingly.

Her blush deepened. "It . . . it was very nice," she managed to say, clearly embarrassed but pleased.

Draco laughed and got back to his feet. "Well, Astoria Greengrass, you have now had your first kiss and can properly boast to all your friends about it."

"Are you leaving already?" she asked, looking a bit crestfallen.

He nodded. "Mother will be ready to go home by now."

"Oh."

"I'll see you round," he said carelessly, then walked off back towards the house.

Astoria placed her chin in her hands and let out a small, dreamy sigh as she watched his retreating figure. "The kiss _was_ nice," she said decisively to herself.

Yet for all its innocence, Draco Malfoy had stolen something from her that day when he had kissed her, though neither of them had known it at the time. She was too young, and he – he was far too self-centred to realise the effect that simple kiss might have on her.

Needless to say, Astoria did not forget the blond who had so thoughtlessly claimed her first kiss for himself – even when she learned that he actually had fancied her sister but had been rejected by Daphne that very day, which was why he had been moping around the garden in the first place. It was a silly girl's crush, but it was a lasting one nonetheless, following her all the way to Hogwarts, where she celebrated being sorted into Slytherin with much more enthusiasm than was necessary because it meant she got to be closer to him.

Astoria had thought that he would approach her during the feast, but the blond took no more notice of her than he did the other first years. She was puzzled by his indifference, but not completely without hope. He had to remember her; he was just busy talking to his friends. It was nothing personal.

But as the days passed and he showed no sign of approaching her, she felt her conviction slip away. She fretted and fumed, and then, finally, she sucked up her courage and confronted him herself.

It was the wrong choice.

Draco, though thirteen years of age, just as he had been the last time she saw him, had nevertheless put her completely out of his mind. He did not remember talking with her in the garden, did not even remember kissing her until she reminded him of it. Then he laughed and looked at her as if she was a particularly amusing toddler, which hurt her more than anything else he had done.

"You're just a child, Astoria," he told her, almost pityingly. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"But—"

He shook his head, silencing her expostulations, and then walked past her without a further word to rejoin his friends. She watched him say something to them, watched the way he gestured towards her, and then the whole bunch of them burst into hideous laughter. Pansy Parkinson was particularly vicious, her giggles as high-pitched and ugly as the yapping little pug she resembled.

Astoria's lip quivered and then she turned on her heel and ran – ran all the way back to her dormitory, where she threw herself on the bed and sobbed heartily. She was heartbroken, and, being of a sensitive disposition, was feeling particularly anguished at the way he had humiliated her like that in front of his friends.

She swore to herself that she would never think about Draco Malfoy again – that he was nothing but the mean bully everyone called him. But he had already stolen her ability to notice other boys by then, and she continued to dwell on him for many bitter years, never quite eradicating him from her thoughts.

And then it happened again.

Astoria was fourteen, and growing nicely into her looks. Draco Malfoy, for all his previous indifference towards the brown-haired Slytherin, had noticed this development – a fact that was particularly heightened while under the influence of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.

And so it was that he stole a kiss from her for the second time. One moment Astoria had been making her way towards her dorm, avoiding her drunken housemates – who were celebrating their latest win against Ravenclaw in true Slytherin style – and then an arm suddenly looped around her waist, pulling her back into the shadows. She gave a startled cry, but it was quickly muffled as lips crushed against hers, demanding and reckless, and overwhelming her with the taste of alcohol. She felt like she was kissing a brewery.

Astoria wrenched her face away and let her hand collide against the boy's cheek in a resounding slap. Then she realised who had kissed her, and she bit her lip in confusion, not quite certain how to react. On the one hand, the boy who had taken up most of her thoughts since she was ten had just kissed her; on the other, this same boy had dismissed her as a mere child and had hurt her deeply, not to mention was drunk.

Her eyes narrowed, any uncertainty she might have felt melting away to be replaced with hot, overwhelming rage.

"How dare you kiss me!" she spat coldly, clenching her hands into fists. "How dare you even _touch_ me!" She wiped her hand over her mouth and gave him such a look of disgust that he actually looked a bit ashamed of himself.

"Astoria," he began, reaching out for her again.

She swatted his hands away from her. "Leave me alone, _Malfoy_!"

The way she said his name made it sound like a disease, and he flinched a bit, though she didn't know why. He was always strutting around like he owned everything – always ruling the rest of the Slytherins like a king on his throne. Sure, he had been a bit quieter this year, a bit more withdrawn. And, yes, she had noticed the dark circles shadowing his grey eyes, which had become increasingly more etched into his face as the months went by until they almost looked like ugly bruises when placed beside the sickly pallor of his skin. But that did not change who he was, or the pain she still felt whenever she thought of him.

Turning away from him, Astoria made to walk away, but his fingers quickly fastened around her wrist.

"Wait," he murmured. "I didn't—I mean—"

"Don't pretend that you like me, Draco Malfoy," Astoria interposed coldly. "I'm just a child, remember?"

His expression became oddly paralysed, and then he released her wrist and took a step back from her. Astoria wondered if he would apologise – if he would say anything at all – but he merely raised an eyebrow, a malicious glint coming to his alcohol-fogged eyes.

"What are you still standing here for?" he threw at her, voice mocking. "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

Astoria clenched her teeth and then she shoved past him, almost knocking him over as she headed back to her dormitory. She could hear his drunken laughter following her all the way to the door, bitter and wounding. It was then that she knew she truly hated Draco Malfoy.

But she could never have known how much he hated himself. Unlike his housemates, he had not been drinking to celebrate their victory over Ravenclaw; he had been drinking to forget, just as he had sought out Astoria to forget – to find anything to distract himself from a mission he had come to fear and loathe. A mission that was tearing him apart.

Yet Astoria did not know of his situation, so she took his anger, his drunken kiss, even his very recklessness towards her as a personal affront. She carried it all into her heart like poison, never considering that perhaps he had not been trying to hurt her at all – that he was, in fact, just a foolish, frightened boy, trying to survive in a world that had become all too overwhelming for him, and seeking comfort in the only way he knew how.

And so they once again drifted apart, the gulf between them wider than ever. Their eyes would meet during meal times every now and then, but it meant nothing, and he never did approach her again. She was far too proud to approach him.

Then something she did not expect happened: Dumbledore was killed, and Draco Malfoy fled the school with a group of Death Eaters, rumours of murder and betrayal following behind him like a pack of ghost hounds. Astoria did not know what to think. It seemed so strange that the boy who had kissed her and teased her when she was ten could do something so terrible, even if it was true that he had never actually fired the killing curse which had killed the headmaster.

Astoria realised then that she didn't know the blond at all – that she had never really known him. Suddenly, her bitterness towards him seemed petty and pointless. She felt like the child he had always called her. Why should he have noticed her when she was eleven? Why should he have ever cared when so much more was happening in his life?

But there was nothing she could do about it now. He was gone, and she knew, even if he did come back, that things would never be the same.

**X**

The sky was looking particularly murderous the day that Astoria Greengrass returned to England. Some might have considered it a bad omen, but for the brunette it was simply the heaven's way of welcoming her home. She had spent the past three years in France, attending Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic to finish her schooling, since her mother had deemed Hogwarts unsafe for her or her older sister.

Astoria had not wanted to go at first, but she had relented in the end. Her parents were afraid, never having been real supporters of the Dark Lord, and they had no wish to let their children be mixed up in the mess that was sure to follow. So she and Daphne had left, leaving their friends and acquaintances to fend for themselves while the war raged on, and she and her sister were kept safe, far away from the damaging effects of the fight against Voldemort.

But now she was back, and Astoria felt ashamed to admit that all she could think about was that same blond who had been her first kiss. He had occupied her thoughts many times while she was away. She was always wondering what he was doing, if he was safe, if he was thinking about her. And then she would laugh and scold herself for being so stupid, because of course he was not thinking of her. He was fighting a war, most likely on the wrong side, but she couldn't hold it against him. She knew enough to understand that he would have had no choice – it was what her own family had been afraid of, after all. Nobody refused the Dark Lord.

"The Malfoys will be coming over for lunch today."

Astoria snapped out of her reverie, meeting her mother's gaze with wide, enquiring eyes. "What?"

"Don't say 'what' in that vulgar way, Astoria," her mother admonished, frowning down at her. "I would have thought that you might have learned to mind your manners more in France."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Astoria apologised, too agitated to take offence. "Did you say the Malfoys are coming here?"

"That is what I just said. Really, Astoria, you must stop this daydreaming of yours; it is most unbecoming."

"Astoria is always going to daydream, Mother," Daphne observed in a cool voice while admiring herself in the mirror. "She can't get excitement any other way."

Astoria pulled a face at her sister, but then her mother caught her eye, and she quickly looked down.

"Well," Daphne continued, patting her hair back into place, "for my part, I'll be quite pleased to see the Malfoys again. I hear Draco has got very handsome – not at all like the runty thing I remember from Hogwarts."

"What do you care about him?" Astoria burst out before she could stop herself. "You've never cared about him!"

Daphne paused, her back straightening slightly. She turned to face her younger sister, an amused yet decidedly mean expression on her face. "What's this? Does little Astoria have feelings for Draco Malfoy?"

"No," Astoria responded, but her blush gave her away.

Daphne's eyes gleamed nastily. "Don't kid yourself, Astoria. He's never going to look twice at you—" she stared back at her own reflection, a satisfied smile curving her lips "—not with me around, anyway."

"Enough of this nonsense, girls," their mother scolded. "Whatever you may think of Draco Malfoy, I will not have you embarrassing us in front of Narcissa and Lucius, so you had best learn to sort out your differences." Her eyes narrowed on Astoria. "And I don't want to hear any more outbursts from you. You're a lady now – start acting like it."

Astoria scowled, but she knew better than to talk back to her mother, so she remained silent. Daphne gave her a smug smile, revelling in her triumph. She sauntered past Astoria to head up the stairs, no doubt to find something to wear so she could look beautiful and win Draco's heart.

Astoria clenched her hands into fists. Daphne was always doing things like this, but it had never really bothered her until now. She knew her sister was attractive, and she knew that Draco probably would admire Daphne over her own darker beauty. What was ordinary brown hair to luscious gold locks, after all? What were large, hazel eyes to heavy-lidded, cornflower blue? What was her own petite, slenderness compared with Daphne's tall, womanly curves?

No, Draco Malfoy would not look twice at her with Daphne around. But she couldn't bear the thought of having to sit there at the dining table and watch her sister flirt with the blond either. Daphne didn't care about Draco, but _she_ did.

True, her feelings for him were different to what they had been when she was that silly ten-year-old girl. Back then he had been a handsome boy to be worshipped. Now he was just Draco – Draco who had kissed her, teased her, wounded her, disgusted her. And yet, even at his worst, even when she thought she hated him, she had still cared. She would always care. She just wished he might care for her too.

"Oh, who am I kidding," Astoria muttered to herself. "It's been years since he last saw me, and it's not like we actually had anything together."

He'd kissed her twice. It wasn't like he was hers.

She sighed, wishing now that she had never heard that the Malfoys were coming to lunch. She almost wished that she had never even come back to England. She didn't want to see Draco again, not when she was aware of her own foolish hopes – hopes that refused to die, no matter how hard she tried to quench them.

Astoria frowned and left the house, heading towards the Forgotten Garden – the one place that had never failed to give her comfort. Besides, it was far away from Daphne, and the last thing she wanted right now was to be in her sister's presence.

The weather-beaten door was covered in ivy, and she had to pull it away before she could enter the garden. It was just as she remembered it: same old trees, same stone bench and fading statues, but the actual flowers and shrubs were choked with weeds. Clearly her mother had not bothered to tell the house-elves to maintain the garden. It had well and truly become forgotten.

"Typical," Astoria muttered. Well, she would just have to come and weed it herself.

Astoria crossed the leaf-scattered grass and sat down on the stone bench, swinging her feet out of habit than because she could no longer touch the ground. There was a robin hopping about in one of the branches above her, and she watched it with a small smile, admiring its red crest and cheery chirping.

"Hello there, Mr Robin," Astoria greeted. "And what are you doing in my garden?"

The robin cocked its head at her, then hopped to another branch.

She stared at the bird for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose you think I'm being silly, don't you? Well, you're probably right. Here I am, eighteen years old, and still fretting about Draco Malfoy. It's pathetic – you don't need to tell me that – but there's just something about him . . ."

The robin cocked its head to the other side, beady eyes flashing.

"Don't give me that look," Astoria responded. "If you knew him, you would understand." She stared at the bird, who gazed blankly back at her. "Alright, so maybe not. But even if you do prefer feathered, winged creatures, you must at least sympathise with my predicament."

Mr Robin, however, merely gave one final chirp and then flew out of the tree, passing right over the garden wall. Astoria sighed and started swinging her feet again. So much for that. She should have known a bird would make a useless confidant.

The light shifted slightly, and she glanced up at the brooding sky, realising it was probably almost lunch time. The Malfoys would be at the house soon, and that meant that Draco would also be at the house soon.

Astoria frowned and rested her chin on her hands, staring at the fallen leaves. She knew she needed to go back to the house, but she remained where she was, quiet and contemplative. A few raindrops started to fall, creating spotty patterns on her dress, but even then she did not move.

Suddenly, she could hear the sound of boots crunching against leaves. She glanced up, her breath catching in her throat as she saw a familiar blond walking towards her. Even after years of not seeing him, there was no mistaking Draco Malfoy. No one else could have such striking grey eyes, such pale, almost translucent skin, or such silvery-blond hair. He had always been unique in appearance, for better or worse, and right now she thought him beautiful.

"I thought I might find you out here," he said by way of greeting, sitting down next to her on the bench.

Astoria swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed. "You haven't seen me in almost four years, and all you can ask is what am I doing here?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, feeling increasingly nervous. "I thought you would be inside with the others." Her eyes lowered to her hands. "I know Daphne was looking forward to seeing you again."

"I don't care about Daphne."

His voice was clipped, honest. Astoria stared back up at him, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing, yet not wanting to get her hopes up too much. Just because he didn't care about Daphne didn't mean that he cared about her.

"I came here looking for you, actually," he continued, leaning back on his palms.

"Why?" she asked, not certain she trusted him. "It's not like we were friends."

Draco gave a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I don't really have the luxury of friends now, so I guess it makes no difference."

There was an awkward pause, as there always was whenever someone like him alluded to the war. Everyone knew he had been a Death Eater.

"I don't judge you, you know," Astoria said after a moment, her voice soft. "What you did, back then – I don't judge you for it." She let out a small breath. "I don't think I could have handled that – what you had to go through."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well . . ."

He trailed off, and she didn't push him to say more. Silence once more settled around them, but it wasn't as awkward as before.

"It's raining," Astoria observed, and then winced at her own stupidity. Of course it was raining – that was why they were both getting wet.

He laughed, holding his hand palm up to catch the rain. "I know."

She met his eyes, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Sorry. I just don't know what to say."

Draco dropped his hand back to his side, a knowing glint coming to his eyes. "Ah, I see. I make you nervous."

"What?" she exclaimed, cheeks burning. "No! I mean, um—"

He laughed gently and tilted her face up towards him, just as he had done so many years ago. "I forgot how ridiculous you can be sometimes," he murmured, brushing his thumb against her dampened cheek. "You don't have to take everything so seriously, you know."

Her heart started thudding against her ribs. "I—I know."

He considered her for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. "I always knew you would grow up to be beautiful," he said softly, more to himself.

Astoria felt her cheeks flood with warmth and knew she would be blushing – badly.

His lips curved into a smile. "Do you remember when we sat on this bench together? It must have been almost eight years ago."

She nodded, swallowing hard at how close they were. If she leaned forward just a fraction, their lips would meet.

"I gave you your first kiss," he continued, bringing his other hand up to cradle her face, his fingers weaving through her hair.

"I know," she responded, her voice almost a whisper.

He paused, a different and much more disquieting kind of smile coming to his lips. "Do you remember the second time I kissed you?"

She swallowed again. "Yes. You were drunk."

"I know," he said, laughing slightly, and then he went more serious as he met her wide, hazel eyes. "But I'm not drunk this time."

Her heart gave an odd flutter in her chest. They stared at each other for a moment, rain falling softly around them, and then he lowered his face and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Her eyes slid shut in helpless surrender, and for the first time she kissed him back, shy at first, but then gradually she grew more confident as her instincts began to take control. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, and she placed a hand against his chest, intensely aware of the wet fabric pressing against her fingertips, which was all that separated her from his skin.

Draco deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer so that their bodies brushed tantalising against each other. A small moan of pleasure purred in her throat, and she broke away from him in surprise, stunned at her own reaction.

He laughed. "Something wrong?"

"N-no," she stammered. "I just—I mean, um—"

Draco smiled, deciding to take pity on her. "You're right, we should stop," he said, wrapping an arm around her, holding her in a loose embrace.

Astoria didn't want to stop, but she was afraid of what she might do if they continued, so she agreed meekly enough, huddling closer against him. For a moment they were both silent, and then a crease formed on her brow.

"Um, Draco?"

"Mm."

"You're not just going to kiss me and leave again, are you?" she asked quietly.

Draco glanced down at her, his face slightly blurred from the rain falling more heavily around them. "Not this time, Astoria." He pushed a wet lock of hair away from her face, an affectionate smile curling his lips. "This time, I intend to stay."


End file.
